


Case 127: The Adventure Of The Hidden Hunter (1895)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [162]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cock Rings, Coming In Pants, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gay Sex, Illegitimacy, Infidelity, Inheritance, Jealousy, Johnlock - Freeform, London, M/M, Prostitution, Servants, Teasing, Trains, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 03:17:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17337581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Families are surprising things, although at least it is not Sherlock who unexpectedly acquires an extra sibling (this time). But the Holmes family does not escape the consequences completely, and one of them is set for some very hard times indeed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaid_diah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaid_diah/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

It was a week after we had returned from Oxford and the Three Students Case. John and I were sitting quietly at home one afternoon and I remember feeling particularly pleased because the impossibly wonderful Mrs. Harvelle had somehow contrived to find a recipe for a 'bacon cake'. 

Look, I had not actually _meant_ to eat John's slice as well as my own. It had just sort of.... happened. And it was quite unfair of him to say that I was, and I quote, 'getting as bad as Henriksen when it came to cake'. Nor did I as he claimed whimper when he suggested sending the rest of the cake to our policeman friend (admittedly I may have coughed a little) or wrap my arms defensively around the cake and scowl at him (I was keeping it safe).

Talking of our friend I had recently managed to arrange for him to be the beneficiary of a rather unusual 'gift' for his birthday. His advancing age was something that he did not like to be reminded of so I paid for a local bakery to bake ninety iced fairy-cakes and for them to then be delivered to his station, the explanation being that some idiot had ordered a hundred instead of ten and the extra would all otherwise go to waste. John said that I was being a little cynical in also arranging for some free stomach powders to be sent to Henriksen's house, but I later learned from his son Veryan who called round to thank us that they had indeed been needed.

 _See?_ I was nowhere near as bad as Henriksen!

֍

Our next (publishable) adventure began the morning after a night before that had gone somewhat awry when John had sprained his ankle – all right, doing That. I was of course totally sympathetic, although I still expected (and got) half his bacon at breakfast. I mean, bacon!

One of John's less favoured visitors to Baker Street was the huge muscular form of Mr. Benjamin Jackson-Giles, the youngest of the gentlemen whom we had rescued from the horrors of the Tankerville Club and who had assisted me in Henriksen's brush with death by dressing up as a wild savage. Benji had been round a couple of times recently, once because of an injury he had sustained at the molly-house (a minor one which I am sure he played up only to tease poor John, the bad boy!) and once to tell us about his younger brother Lloyd who had taken up with his employer, our friend Mr. Sweyn Godfreyson. The latter had long admired Benji's fine physique but what with him being both an employee and married, clearly nothing could have come of it. However Lloyd (named after their mother's maiden name), some twelve years Benji's junior, had now attained his majority and was now finally able to work under Mr. Godfreyson. 

Literally, in his case!

I should add that Benji was a tease in another way too when he quite deliberately pointed out the fifteen year age difference between Sweyn and Lloyd while leering at me. He knew all too well how insecure John got as to the much smaller two and a half year age gap between us and it was quite wrong of him to point that out as it only made John even more determined to prove that he still had it in him which.... why was I objecting again?

Lloyd did not yet have his elder brother's physique but one could see when they both came round that cold March day that it was only a matter of time. Benji had recently been photographed for an advertisement for one of those gymnasiums while wearing only a very short and very tight pair of leopard-print trunks; I had just happened to remark on this to John and had got Pouted at most severely! And John was not grumbling away in the corner at Benji leering at me, not at all.

That look could probably have removed paint!

“How may we be of service?” I asked once our visitors had sat down.

“It concerns our brother, sir”, Benji said.

I was surprised at that. The young gentlemen's father had I knew been the result of an affair that his own father had moved to England from Jamaica and from the one photograph that I had seen of him had been very like Benji. Mr. William Jackson-Giles had married an African lady and although neither fellow liked to talk about it I had gathered that it had not been a happy union, things being made more difficult by the fact that after Benji their mother had had seven pregnancies that had all ended in either stillbirths or miscarriages, hence the almost twelve-year gap between the brothers. That and the fact in Benji's wonderful turn of phrase, 'she was no better than she ought to be'. But I had thought that her only male offspring were the two giants in the room who were being Pouted at by some totally not-jealous doctor.

“I was not aware that you had a brother”, I said.

“Neither were we until yesterday, sir”, Benji said dryly. “You know that our parents had planned to move to England two years before Lloyd's birth?”

I nodded. Benji's father had at least been financially secure; his elder brother had died childless and left him a large stake in a South African gold mine.

“Father was held up because of some problem with his business in Africa, sir”, Benji said, “so Mother went on ahead and settled in here. They had got a place in Clerkenwell – too big really but then that was Father for you – and she hired a Scotsman called Mr. Andrew Hunter to run the place. They, uh..... you know.”

I knew. The price for the stability of the Victorian family unit was the more than occasional blind eye to what was going on beneath the veil of propriety. Far too often horizontal goings-on.

Benji smiled warmly at me and I could hear John shifting uncomfortably on his chair. The behemoth was very happily married with an amazing ten children – probably even more amazing was that Bertha whom he loved dearly was not yet pregnant with number eleven, although surely that was only a matter of time – and I knew that the behemoth now restricted his 'activities' these days to security work and attending to the needs of one very rich client who some years later would stand as godfather to his sixteenth son who was named in his honour, Master Luke Jackson-Giles. That coincidentally explained my elder brother's limp the last time he had called; well that and the fact he had been a little too prideful when we had met at the gymnasium and I may or may not have paid Mr. Godfreyson to free up Benji for a triple session.

Luke had been getting above himself again of late. Perhaps.....

“We neither of us knew about this”, Lloyd said shaking his head at his teasing big brother, “until the lawyer came round. We knew of Father's death last week but we had not expected to get anything from him – he had made it clear when we moved out that that was that as far as he was concerned and we expected his estate to go to Uncle Robert back in South Africa – but it seems that they had a falling-out for some reason. Mr. Smithson the lawyer visited us yesterday and told us that the estate is to be sold and that we are to get one-third each.”

“So your mother's relationship with her steward produced a son”, I said, thinking both that this sounded another terrible story that my own mother must never learn of it as it might 'inspire' her to write something even worse than her usual output, unlikely though that seemed (I had long learned the hard way never to underestimate her). “And your father was prepared to acknowledge the boy as his own? That.... is unusual.”

“Almost unknown”, John put in.

“We wondered if you might help us track down our kin, sir”, Benji said.

I looked curiously at him. One of his little quirks was that he used 'sir' a lot when he was nervous, and also tended to fold his hands over each other. But what about even this curious tale would make him feel like that?

“It is a pity that I cannot go straight to the efficient Miss Bradbury”, I frowned. “She is staying in Scotland this week and it is her first real break in years so I do not wish to disturb her even by applying to Middleton's, knowing her she might well curtail her holiday to assist. Do you happen to know the name of this half-brother, Benji?”

The behemoth nodded.

“His name was in the will so Mr. Smithson could tell us that at least, sir”, he said. “Mr. Ezekiel Hunter; he took his father's surname. The fellow's father quit the service after... you know, and went back to Scotland, but Mr. Smithson said that we might apply to the housekeeper at the house. She knew a lot about what was going on, he said.”

“He called her a right nosy old bat!” Lloyd put in.

I smiled at that.

֍

Clerkenwell is a run-down suburb a little way south of the Thames in what looks nothing like the rest of rural Surrey, but 'Pretoria House' was one of the few remaining large houses in it. I sent up my card wishing that John's leg had been well enough for him to be with me and was soon in the Presence (capital required) of the housekeeper Mrs. Bridges, a formidably large lady who was giving me the sort of look that would have had a green-eyed someone rolling his eyes in despair. And certainly would later when I 'accidentally' mentioned it to him; a jealous John was so much more demanding when it came to certain activities.

“Such a dreadful scandal!” she said disapprovingly. “Mr. William was a nice man despite being black. His wife though – she was no lady. Just for the money we all thought. Behind his back she called him a half-breed – he was as black as she was though I remember hearing his own grandfather was a Red Indian would you believe? The word downstairs was that several of the bairns that didn't make it were also hers by other men but her fool of a husband loved her enough to not notice if you know what I mean.”

I knew what she meant, even without the nodding and winking.

“Mr. Hunter on the other hand, he was a gentleman”, she went on. “Mrs. J. got her claws into him the moment she arrived but he refused her, and it was only when he got drunk one night that.... you know.”

That they did rather more than wave their arms about in a vague manner. I knew.

“Mr. Hunter, he was _appalled_ by what he'd done”, she said firmly. “He wanted to quit immediately but she persuaded him to stay on until her husband came over from South Africa. Poor fellow was out the door the very morning the master was due back and high-tailed it back to his home up in Scotland somewhere; I only know it was on one of them there islands. She had more than a bit of explaining to do with her being ready to pop and not having seen Mr. William for over a year. She probably thought she'd swung it, but when the boy was born he was lily-white! _That_ put the cat amongst the pigeons good and proper!”

I bet it had. Even Victorians could only overlook so much.

“She got her way, mostly”, the housekeeper said disdainfully. “No way the master could have kept the boy in the house so he tracked down Mr. Andrew and paid him to raise him up in Scotland. People would talk otherwise.”

“Please go on”, I said. She managed another coquettish look but did so. At least her coffee was tolerable even if her cake was sub-standard.

“The master and the mistress had young Master Lloyd not long after”, she said. “He went off to join Master Benjamin in London last year; both fine young gentlemen whatever anyone says about them. It was some time after that when the master had had a falling-out with his brother Abroad for some reason and rewrote his will. The mistress was ill then with what would get her in the end – something from all that sleeping around I'd bet! - and he made all three boys joint heirs because she asked. I did think that he might change his mind once she'd gone but he stuck to his word.”

“Did young Master Ezekiel ever come down to visit?” I asked. She shook her head.

“But I did hear that his father had passed and he had sold his estate”, she said. “I read that in the papers; Lord Saye purchased it as a hunting-lodge and they mentioned the old owner's name. No idea where he went, though.”

Probably to South Africa with my luck, I thought glumly. I thanked the lady for her time and made my escape, though not before being on the receiving end of yet another look. Seriously?

֍

The keening cry that I had just dragged out of the man lying broken before me was, perhaps, ever so slightly more than satisfying. John stared up at me clearly wondering if he should start begging for mercy, and clearly wanting to make this last as long – hah! - as possible.

“How in the name of all that his holy have you not come yet?” he moaned. “I have nothing left in me, and it _hurts!”_

“But such a delicious pain, is it not?” I grinned, reaching under myself and removing the cock-ring. He stared at me as if I was some sort of cheater.

“That is just unfair!” he cried. “You made me wait all that time!”

I eased him up and gave him a drink of water, quietly(ish) proud of having wrecked so great a man. Then I passed him over the cock-ring. He paled.

“You are seriously not suggesting....”

It was an idea but I really did not want to kill him through sex, much as that was definitely the way to go when (hopefully many years into the future) our times finally came. Instead I opened the ring up and showed him what was on the inside.

“'Property of Doctor John Watson, M.D.'”. he read. “You really are bad, you know!”

I smirked and waited for him to get it. It did not take long. His eyes widened in horror.

“Tell me where you got this engraved so I never go there!”

I chuckled and set to work once more.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

The following morning I sent telegrams to Benji and Lloyd telling them what had happened; as the matter was not urgent I had decided to wait four days until Miss Bradbury's return before asking for her help. I then returned to enjoy a delicious breakfast, even if I did have to take some food into the bedroom for someone who was not yet recovered enough to hold a plate. Because I was a good mate.

Of course I still got half his bacon. Look, I held his coffee cup for him. I even drank some of it because I was so good.

֍

Miss Bradbury proved as efficient as ever and two days after her return we again had two visitors at Baker Street. This time Benji was accompanied by my brother Luke, who just smirked when I rolled my eyes at him. Although I noted that he sat down rather carefully.

“Lloyd cannot come today, sir”, Benji said. “Mr. Godfreyson says that he is tied up.”

“Some clients have their own little kinks, eh?” Luke smirked.

 _”Some_ do indeed!” Benji agreed.

He looked knowingly at Luke and grinned. It was wonderful to see my big brother blush like that!

“The ever-efficient Miss Bradbury has tracked down your half-brother, Benji”, I told him, not at all smiling at John's very evident annoyance at the nickname. “When his father died he sold his estate and moved down to Berkshire.”

“Why there, sir?” Benji asked.

“He wished to follow his own father and train up to be a steward”, I explained. “There is an institution some way south of Didcot called Churn Castle that provides an intensive training course and he is enrolled there; they are developing quite a good reputation in service circles from what I hear. He has completed his studies and is currently staying on while he seeks employment in London.”

“Does he know about us, sir?” Benji asked anxiously.

“Yes.”

Benji was clearly taken aback by my forthrightness. He gulped nervously, and I smiled reassuringly at him.

“You were concerned lest he reject you”, I said softly, “and given the family circumstances that was a possibility. I have however communicated with him through the telegraph and explained the situation, and he has said that he is looking forward to seeing his family.”

Benji sniffed. For all that he could do the fierce savage act when needed he really was a big softie at heart. Luke wrapped an arm around him which seemed to comfort him somewhat.

֍

The four of us left for Paddington whence we would take a train first to Didcot and then onto Churn. John's leg was not quite right yet – he had graciously consented to some of what he called 'that manly embracing that I liked' the other night, and I had graciously consented not to refer to it as the thing that rhymed with huddling – but he was very clearly not leaving me with Benji even if Luke was there. Not that he was the jealous sort of lover.

He was looking at me suspiciously for some reason. I had to work hard not to smirk. I think that I managed it. Sort of.

Churn Castle was.... strange. We reached Didcot and changed for the short journey up onto the Berkshire Downs where King Alfred had won his great victory at Ashdown (I did listen to John _sometimes)_. Churn was the first stop; we had had to request the train to call there as it was only a halt serving the Castle and a nearby rifle-range. 

The Castle itself was one of those curious new buildings that were designed to look old, in this case like a small medieval castle complete with towers and crenellations. There was a fine view down to the distant Thames but I could not refrain from thinking that this place had to be extremely cold as well as likely being cut off come winter. There were still patches of snow from the recent heavy fall that had blanketed London last week and caused John and I to have to stay indoors.

We had coped, apart from that ankle.

We were shown into the presence of Mr. Thomas Matheson who I knew owned and ran the establishment and who had been most helpful in my communications with Mr. Hunter yesterday.

“You are here to see Sandy”, he said. “He is probably still abed.”

“At this hour?” Luke asked, surprised. “And why do you call him Sandy?”

“His middle name”, our host explained. “We have another Ezekiel here and he prefers Alexander or Sandy anyway. Two of the boys got into a fight in Didcot last night; not their fault as they were attacked by a gang of thugs. Sandy went down to sort it all out. He did not get back until just before dawn so I said that he should catch up on his sleep especially as he is finished training now. I will have James show you the way up and you can talk to him.”

I felt Benji tense without even looking at him.

“I think that you had better go up by yourself, Benji”, I said. “It would be good if he saw family first.”

He looked at me gratefully. A servant appeared at the door and Benji loped off after him while Mr. Matheson rang for drinks for the rest of us.

֍

It was nearly half an hour later that a message came down asking us to join Benji and his half-brother. We went up into what must have been one of the corner towers and found the door open for us. Inside I found Benji looking supremely happy, he and his half-brother Mr. Hunter both sitting on the couch.

I could see at once why Benji's mother might have had quite some explaining to do a couple of decades back. Although Mr. Ezekiel Hunter was physically and facially very similar to his half-brother, the former had pale and almost ivory-white skin. He had carefully trimmed blond hair and was clearly not one to stand on ceremony as he was still in his underpants – although at least that very clearly demonstrated at least one other familial similarity!

Mr. Hunter smiled in welcome at me.

“You must be the famous and helpful Mr. Sherlock Holmes to who I own my current happiness”, he said with barely a trace of any Scots accent. “Doctor Watson, of course. And....”

He stopped as Luke came in behind us and his eyes widened. My brother was taller than myself and was clearly surprised at finding what was almost a second if younger and lighter-skinned version of Benji.

“Well hello there!” Mr. Hunter growled in what could not but have been called a predatory tone of voice. “You must be the demon Lucifer who my brother skewers from time to time. What a _delicious_ daddy!”

I had not known that someone could blush like that. My brother was always in control of any situation – I know that one of the reasons he and Benji worked so well was that it enabled Luke to hand over the reins to someone he knew that he could trust – but now he looked shocked.

“You cannot be much more than twenty years of age!” he managed.

“Twenty-three, while you must be well into your forties”, the young man grinned somehow moving in even closer. “All that experience and doubtless the stamina to go with it. Nice expensive suit. _Very_ nice body. And.....”

I had also not known that Luke's voice could reach that high. Apparently Mr. Ezekiel Hunter had somehow managed to get his hand right inside my brother's trousers.

“Hung like a horse!” the tall man grinned. “Bingo! Any chance that you need a manservant, sir? I am prepared to do _anything_ to satisfy!”

Benji went over and coughed pointedly at his brother. Not that Luke noted; he looked totally out of it. It would have been beneath me to do something cruel and callous at this point but I did it anyway.

“You did say the other day that you needed a manservant, did you not Luke?” I asked innocently.

“Sherlock.... oh Lord!”

Luke's body suddenly convulsed – ew! - and he looked at Mr. Hunter in astonishment.

“I shall call on you some time after I get to London, Mr. Holmes”, the blond behemoth smirked. “You too Ben, and Lloyd. 'Lucifer' here and I will be very busy - for a long, _long_ time!”

My brother whined in terror.

֍

Mr. Ezekiel Hunter, one of whose first acts was to legally make Alexander as his main Christian name) duly returned to London with Luke and Benji told me that they did not come round to see him and Lloyd for four whole days! And that my brother had then looked 'less than one hundred per cent' (the fellow really should have been an actor what with his understatement and expressive looks), and that Luke had almost fled the room when his new love had suggested what he called 'tag-teaming' with his half-brothers. Poor Luke, I had almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

John of course was not at all jealous of Benji's visit, mainly because I fucked him hard enough to forget about it (and probably to forget his own name at one point!). Unfortunately my happy afterglow was ruined when Bacchus came round to Baker Street soon after to moan about Luke taking time off work. I said that I quite agreed about government officials spending government time on personal liaisons and on a totally unrelated matter how was Lady Feilding's recently-married daughter Alys doing just now? The look on his face! 

I had a note from Luke the week after, thanking me for all that I had done. The handwriting was rather shaky for some reason. I grinned and made a mental note to introduce Mr. Hunter to the 'delights' of a certain shop in Baker Street which could make his time with my brother even more 'fulfilling'.....

֍


End file.
